


Enough, For Now

by Mackem



Category: Fake News RPF, The Daily Show
Genre: Angst, F/M, Infidelity, M/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-15 04:19:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mackem/pseuds/Mackem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephen visits the Little Miss Sunshine set.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enough, For Now

His visit to the set of _Little Miss Sunshine_ had been Steve's idea, of course. Stephen, for his part, tried hard not to think of him, to sit back and let him lead the way through their complicated friendship. When Steve called, Stephen was in the middle of two weeks of holiday; he hardly hesitated in deciding he had time enough to spare on a jaunt to California. The journey was around two thousand miles, all in all. Far enough away that Evelyn, normally so distant and willing to turn a blind eye, protested.  
  
"It's the other side of the country, Stephen!"  
  
"I know where California is, Evie." A mild tone, a loving pet name, both calculated clinically to appease as he continued to toss clothes into a lightweight bag. Neither worked.  
  
"Then you'll know it's thousands of miles!"  
  
Stephen sighed and nodded, keeping his voice bright and casual. "I'll scrap the plan to walk there, then."  
  
"You're _supposed_ to be spending this time with your children. Remember them?" Stephen scowled, tossing a pair of jeans into his bag in frustration, stung with this inference.  
  
"I've seen the kids every day!" He had, and Evelyn knew it. Stephen loved his children, and spent as much time as he possibly could with them. Of the many failings as a man he could be accused of, being an absent, uncaring father was not one of them. Which was why Evelyn brought out the big guns, he supposed.  
  
"And me. Dammit, Stephen, you're supposed to be spending time with _me_." Bingo. Right on the nail. He winced as he turned to her, taking in the tight lines around her mouth, the angry set of her jaw...the disappointment poorly hidden in her eyes. Christ. When did his wife begin to look like a stranger to him? When did their once loving relationship become two people awkwardly trying not to piss each other off? He'd never thought about it before.  
  
"Evie...Evelyn, I'm sorry," he sighed, holding his hands up in supplication. "Of course I'm sorry. I guess...I guess I didn't think how this would affect you." Of course he hadn't. He hadn't thought at all. Steve called, and he dropped everything to go to him, regardless of what he _should_ be doing. It was always the same. He reached out his left hand to hold Evelyn's and saw his wedding ring gleam in the harsh light of their bedroom; he cringed as his wife sadly pulled away. "But please...try to understand? He's an old friend..."  
  
"If you were only going as a friend I wouldn't mind," she sighed, and there was the sadness floating on her words. Neither looked at each other, both staring at the floor as the shameful knowledge that Evelyn could say whatever she wanted and Stephen would still leave flowed between them. It shocked him that he could do that to her, that he could be so thoughtless...that the regret would only persist until he saw Steve.  
  


~*~

  
  
The conversation with his wife had been awkward and uncomfortable and was, he thought, best left forgotten, for now. Back in New York, back in dreary, grey days, he would have to face it again, to try to undo the damage and forge blindly forwards. But as Californian sun beat down on him in his convertible, snatches of breeze fingering his hair as he drove along, those days could not seem further from his thoughts.  
  


~*~

  
  
Steve had been suitably amused that Stephen would turn up at his motel in an overly-flashy scarlet convertible, as Stephen had hoped. "Did your penis just go ahead and shrivel up entirely?"  
  
Steve was seated on a bench outside the bleached white motel building, body held in that idiosyncratic way of his; his posture stiff yet his expression relaxed, as if he had a stick up his ass yet found it quite enjoyable.  
  
"I beg your pardon?" Stephen slammed the car door firmly, sunglasses shoved up into his ruffled hair. An amused grin slid slowly over his face as he leaned back against his hired car, lounging gracefully and eyeing his old friend closely.  
  
"Surely only a man with serious issues about the, shall we say, extent of his manhood would choose to drive such an obvious cock-replacement?" And there it was, that cheeky smile, the one that made those bright green eyes glow. "So what is it, did you finally give in and just grow a pussy?"  
  
"You wish," Stephen scoffed. He managed to keep up his disaffected sneer for all of a second before his instinctive pleased grin broke through. A thought was obviously shared at that moment as Stephen stepped forward at the same time as Steve propelled himself up from the bench. The two men met in a tight hug, arms wrapped fiercely around each other, far more tightly than either would allow in company.  
  
"It's good to see you, man."  
  
"Same here," Stephen murmured, and perhaps he had merely imagined the hopeful nuzzle of soft black hair against his throat. Then again, he mused as Steve gave his ass a firm squeeze with both hands, perhaps he hadn't.  
  
"Hungry?" Steve asked, stepping away after a long moment.  
  
"Could eat a horse," Stephen announced, gratefully stretching limbs achy from hours spent trapped inside 'planes and cars.  
  
"Well I can't offer you horse, but there's a great diner down the street. Nice place, real quiet." Both men smiled; 'quiet' meant 'private', which meant 'a chance to talk properly.' "I was thinking I would I would go ahead and order for us, and you can go up to my room and, y'know, you can freshen up." He handed over a key, the fob marked '12', and smiled faintly as his hand brushed Stephen's. "There's an omelette you _need_ to try." Stephen grinned, more than happy to let Steve take control in his quiet way, willing to mindlessly follow his lead.  
  


~*~

  
  
While he washed his face in the sparse, if clean, bathroom, he spotted Steve's wedding ring lying forlornly on the cool bathroom tiles. As he changed into a clean blue t-shirt he noticed a photograph of Steve's family beside his bed, Nancy and his kids grinning playfully into the camera. He waited for the guilty thoughts to wash over him and was surprised, if relieved, when he felt nothing.  
  


~*~

  
  
Steve was right. The omelette was perfect - fluffy, light and almost manna after the airline's rubbery offerings. Steve had been easy enough to spot in the almost-empty diner, standing out from the chatting locals in his crisp, white linen shirt and pants, sipping coffee comtemplatively.  
  
"So," Stephen said from behind a mouthful of cheesy egg, grinning idiotically from across the booth. "I didn't expect the beard."  
  
"I wondered how you'd react," Steve grinned, stroking his chin as if testing out the feel of his facial hair. "I agree it's a little startling. Sometimes I scare myself, when I look in the mirror." Stephen chuckled, spearing a couple of mushrooms with his fork and shoving them in his mouth.  
  
"At least it draws attention away from your nose."  
  
"Asshole." Steve laughed and stole a fry from Stephen, who swatted his hand away, smirking and bouncing slightly in the springy cushioned seat.  
  
"You expected an honest opinion?" he teased. Steve laughed softly and shook his head, eyes drifting down to his lap shyly.  
  
"I didn't 'expect', but I'd like one."  
  
"I like it." Steve's eyes shot up from his lap to meet Stephen's, curiosity evident before he glanced casually away. "It really suits you, man. It makes you seem distinguished."  
  
"Distinguished?"  
  
"And handsome."  
  
"Oh." He met Stephen's quiet gaze awkwardly, his smile hesitant. "Well, y'know, thank you. I figured you'd be repulsed by it."  
  
"Does...Nancy like it?" Stephen probed gently, curious about Steve's manner. He chewed stoically as Steve hesitated, lips tightening into a thin line.  
  
"Nancy hasn't seen it since I came out here," he commented with a polite blankness that made Stephen cock an eyebrow instinctively. "It was really only stubble when I came out here. She...didn't seem to enjoy it."  
  
"I see," Stephen remarked, somehow perversely pleased by this.  
  
Steve evidently noticed; he bristled, and frostily asked, "How's Evie?" Stephen winced, looking up from his meal sharply, wearing a wounded expression.  
  
"Pissed that I came all the way out here to see you when she wants me home with her," he replied with a soft, disarming honesty that made Steve start, surprised, then sigh. His shoulders drooped as he spoke, hands fiddling endlessly with his coffee cup.  
  
"I've invited Nancy out here three times," Steve mumbled, dispirited. "Three times in just over a month. She tells me she's too busy. I invite you, and, what is it, two days later? Two days, and you've traveled over two thousand miles to see me." He sighed, evidently greatly bothered. "Stephen, please tell me, is this fucked up?" Steve lifted his head to fix his companion with a pleading look, the coffee cup twirling restlessly between his hands. Stephen swallowed his last mouthful and took a sip of his own coffee thoughtfully.  
  
"This is fucked up," he replied agreeably. His left hand crept under the table and settled on Steve's thigh, stroking fondly and trying to reassure him. "But we always were. Is this so different?"  
  
"Things are changing," Steve murmured, refusing to meet Stephen's eyes; his hand nevertheless slid into Stephen's grasp, squeezing gratefully. "Nancy and I...we're not..it's not the same," he confessed in a whisper, his free hand trailing tiredly through his neat black hair. Stephen ran his thumb over Steve's knuckles tenderly, otherwise not reacting, waiting for him to go on. Steve's next comment, however, brought a puzzled frown to his face. "Do you know what character I play, in this film?"  
  
"No?" Stephen offered politely, confused by this sudden apparent change of direction.  
  
"A depressed gay man," Steve sighed, smiling softly as Stephen laughed in surprise, tickled by this news.  
  
"How apt!"  
  
"Horribly so," grumbled Steve. "Have you ever played a character so like yourself that you wonder if the writer has been stalking you?"  
  
"I think the giant foam 'z' encapsulated my inner self best," Stephen commented, mock-thoughtfully, chuckling as Steve blinked in bewilderment before grinning, his face lightening.  
  
"Goddamn idiot," he laughed easily, squeezing Stephen's hand tightly. "I hate you for making me enjoy _Sesame Street_ in such a horribly wrong way."  
  
"Are you kidding?" Stephen grinned, eyes crinkling as he laughed. "Try explaining to your kids why you're just as excited as them to be going to see _Over The Hedge_ without using the words 'Steve's gorgeous voice' while your wife glares at you."  
  
"Glares?" Steve asked curiously, draining his coffee cup and setting it down with an awkward sigh. "Is...does Evelyn -"  
  
" -She knows." Stephen spoke calmly, eyes fixed on Steve, feeling his heartbeat speed. "We haven't spoken about it directly. Danced around the subject once or twice, that's as close as we've come. I told you, she's pissed that I came all the way out here." He offered Steve a wan smile. "My wife probably thinks we're fucking right now."  
  
Steve paused before, seemingly helpless to stop himself, he leaned closer. "Why aren't we?"  
  


~*~

  
  
Stephen remembered very little of the time spent on Steve's formerly neat bed, outside of the maddening rush of kissing, stroking, moaning and thrusting. He thought, however, that he would probably never forget the sensation of Steve's beard brushing teasingly against his thighs as he expertly worked Stephen's cock with his mouth.  
  
"Tickly," he remarked to himself absently, lying naked atop the mussed sheets. Steve stirred at his side, still panting lightly as he levered himself up on an elbow, giving him a confused glance.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Don't worry about it," Stephen laughed softly. Strong hands coaxed Steve into resting his head upon Stephen's chest, stroking his back tenderly. Steve lay silent, one hand instinctively curled around the blanket, his face blank as his eyes stared off into some other time. "You're thinking about you and Nancy," Stephen commented gently after a few minutes; Steve stirred. The guilt had finally arrived, souring the moment as it swirled around his head.  
  
"I don't think there _is_ a 'me and Nancy'," Steve whispered painfully, and it hurt to hear the soft catch of the lonely sob in his breath. Stephen's hands worked over as much as Steve's skin as possible, as if trying to smooth away his troubles. "Stephen...I...I don't know what to do."  
  
Stephen thought about his own wife. His Evelyn, no longer smiling in his arms but cold and distant; frowning and disappointed. His own marriage, no more the haven of warmth and caring but merely two people trying to bring up some kids without driving each other mad. "You have to do what will make you happy," he murmured.  
  
The reply came quick as a shot, meek and hopeful. "You make me happy, Stephen. But...you..."  
  
"I've barely seen my wife in months," Stephen said softly. "But when I got the chance to spend some time with her, I dropped everything and ran two thousand miles to see you. I need to think about that. I need to think about everything." He paused, hesitating, wondering where to go from there. "I...can't _promise_ -"  
  
" -I wouldn't make you promise," Steve whispered, nuzzling against Stephen's chest, apparently comforted. "You'll think about it. That's enough, for now. It's a start."  
  
And as Stephen stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, feeling Steve falling asleep against him peacefully, he reflected that perhaps finally starting to think about what he was doing would indeed be enough. For now, at least.


End file.
